


Frame-Up: Expertise, Quality & Great Design

by twobirdsonesong



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ficlet, First Meetings, Fluff, High School, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 17:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4530744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twobirdsonesong/pseuds/twobirdsonesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt is a high school student in Lima working a part-time job at framing store in the local mall, counting the hours until he graduates and gets the hell out of town, when Blaine comes in with a slightly embarrassing photo to frame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frame-Up: Expertise, Quality & Great Design

Kurt really doesn’t care much about the fine art of picture framing, despite his current part-time job at _Frame-Up_ , the framing store in the middle of the Lima Mall. And he doesn’t particularly care about the fine art that goes into the frames either.  Sometimes it’s fine art, other times it’s $10 prints of celebrities, movie posters, or terrible vacation photos he has to pretend are masterpieces for his overly proud clients.

  
The little store is sandwiched uncomfortably between the giant Macys and another store that seems to change hands every other week. This week it’s a fro-yo shop, before that it was a store that sold nothing but calendars and board games, and before _that_ a kindly old woman sold macaroons and fudge.  She didn’t actually go out of business; she died.  Kurt hopes the frozen yogurt stays awhile.

 

When Kurt gets to work that morning, Jeff is already waiting for him, gangly limbs spilling over the mall bench he’s sprawled on. And he’s asleep. Kurt kicks his foot gently and he moves to unlock the front doors.

 

“Late night?” Kurt asks when Jeff finally rolls off the bench and ambles into the store behind him.

 

“Something like that,” Jeff responds around a yawn. He’s in uniform – dark pants and a dark shirt – but there’s something distinctly rumpled around him.

 

It’s early enough that the mall is still mostly empty, only populated by aging Mall Walkers in brightly colored tracksuits and white sneakers, but Kurt still needs to get the store open.  Their boss, Terri, is generally psychotic and only works when she feels like it, but they still need to be on their toes in case she decides to show up out of the blue.

 

Once, Terri was supposed to be in South America (allegedly hunting Nazis with an old friend, but Kurt has his doubts about that) when she showed up five minutes to close.  They’d already shut everything down and were in the process of locking up when she’d appeared out of nowhere.  She’d made them go back in and reorganize all of the frames by size and material, and then back again.  Kurt still gets a flash of annoyance when he thinks about it.

  
“You think she’s coming in today?” Jeff asks, already draping himself across the long counter where they take measurements and deal with the easier frames.

 

“It’s a Sunday morning; she’s probably still out on Quaaludes and gin.”

 

“She does like to be good to herself.”

 

Kurt smirks.  It doesn’t take them long to get the store open; lights come on, register opens, sign on the door flipped over from _closed_. It’s not the best job in the city, but it might be one of the easiest, and it certainly does the trick until high school is over and he moves away from this whole damn town.

 

“What are we playing today?” Jeff asks, grabbing the duster out of the back room.  Even though the closing shift cleans before they leave, they always dust in the morning. No matter what they do there’s always dust.

 

“Anything but another four hours of Richard Marx and Genesis,” Kurt responds.  Terri’s playlists are notorious for being heinous.

 

“Or the live recording of her husband’s rap crew.”

 

Kurt snorts indelicately.  “We can do better than that.”  When Terri isn’t there, he plugs his iPod into the speakers and turns on his own playlists, which, more often than not, consist heavily of Broadway show tunes.

 

His other co-worker, Mercedes, prefers gospel or the new music station on the radio.  And even though Kurt never works with Sam, he’s heard from Mercedes that there’s a lot of twanging country and shaky air guitar involved when he’s on shift.

 

The day goes by uneventfully; nothing much exciting ever happens at a framing store.  Kurt sells two posters from _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ in an hour and has to stop himself from rolling his eyes too obviously.  Later, Kurt pinches his fingertip in a metal frame, but that happens all the time. A woman in high-waisted jeans and an unflattering peasant top brings in a print of Klimt’s “The Kiss” and buys a frame that costs ten times more than the picture is worth. But Kurt isn’t going to refuse her museum quality archival mats and glass that comes with UV protection when it means a bigger commission for him.  He’s got dreams of escaping this town and those dreams need a bit of cash.

 

“Is this Sondheim?”  Jeff asks part way through the day.  It’s after lunch and there’s a lull in business. He’s perched precariously on a stack of metal frames on the floor, stretching long to straighten out and dust pictures and frames hanging high up on the walls.  Kurt’s glad someone is taller than him, because it means he gets out of some of the dusting.

 

“LaChiusa,” Kurt responds absently.  Jeff’s a great guy to work with, kind and sometimes funny, and he doesn’t mind Kurt’s penchant for show tunes, but he also doesn’t know much about them.  Kurt’s often left humming the songs to himself and dreaming of a better life.

 

There’s no bell or chime on the door to let them know when someone comes into the store; Terri had pitched a fit when Kurt suggested it, ranting that it disrupted the calm and serene, nay, the romantic atmosphere of the framing store.  And also that Kitchen n’ Things on the other end of the mall didn’t have a chime, so why should they?

 

Kurt is behind the counter with his back to the store as he digs through a file cabinet for an old work order, and doesn’t realize someone has entered the store until a voice sounds softly from behind him.

 

“Oh, I love LaChiusa.”

 

Kurt straightens up and turns around.  A boy is standing at the counter, with dark hair and bright eyes, dressed in too nice jeans and an expensive looking jacket.  He’s too well dressed for the mall on a weekend, and too good-looking for Lima, Ohio.

 

“Uhm.”

 

“I think _Giant_ was really underrated,” the boy says. He must be 18, if that, and Kurt’s heart perks up.  “I mean, not so much for the story, but LaChiusa’s score.  Really sweeping melodies in that one.”

 

Kurt is sure his mouth must be hanging open.  “You know who LaChiusa is?”  He asks, inanely.

 

The other boy shrugs. His cheeks are plump and his lips are full; he’s too lovely to be in this store and Kurt can’t stop staring. “Well, yeah,” the boy continues. “I mean, I haven’t gotten to see many of his shows, you know, living here.  But I have the albums.  And his adaptation of _Hello Again_? Wow.  Of course my parents wouldn’t be too happy if they knew I was listening to _that_ one, but that’ll be our little secret.”

 

The guy winks, and then blushes a little, shaking his head, and Kurt thinks he’s perfect.

 

“This song though,” the boy says, glancing around the shop as though looking for the source of the music. “ _Hearts are just drums that go beating with wanting, and he was the one that my heart wanted for_.”  He sings it softly, barely singing at all, and Kurt can’t breathe for the ache in his whole body.

 

The blush deepens and the boy clears his throat.  “Uhm, I’m Blaine,” he says.

 

“Kurt.”

 

Blaine nods. “Anyway, uhm.  I guess I need something framed?”  He pulls an envelope out of a leather messenger bag. “This is so embarrassing,” he prefaces, opening up the envelope and pulling something out.  “But my mom insisted.”

 

Kurt tears his gaze away from Blaine’s thick eyelashes to look down at the counter.  It’s an 8x11 professional photo of Blaine, but he looks a little different.  His hair is neatly tamed and he’s wearing a navy blazer; his smile is tight and just shy of unnatural.

 

“Is this…?”

 

“My senior photo? Yeah, it is.”  Blaine shakes his head. “My mom wants it framed. I don’t know why.”

 

Kurt bites his lip to hide his smile and busies himself with getting a custom order form out and ready. “Oh, well, we’ve got a billion different options, some more expensive and-”

 

Blaine holds his hand up. “Honestly, Kurt, we’ll just do the best frame you got.  My mom won’t know the difference, but if she sees it’s expensive she’ll love it.”

 

“Any color options? Wood?  Metal?”

 

“Whatever you think is best. I trust you.  You’ve got great taste in music after all.”

 

Kurt blushes and his heart beats heavily in his throat.  “How quickly do you need it done?”

 

Blaine shrugs. “It doesn’t have to be rush. It’s just a senior photo. Nothing special.”

 

“Okay.  Unless you want to come in during the week, I have it done on Saturday?”

 

“Saturday is fine. Like I said, no rush needed.”

 

“Can you fill this out then?” Kurt slides the order form across the counter.  He watches Blaine fill in his information, staring at the veins in the back of his hands and the delicate bones of his wrist.  He has nice hands, strong but with dexterous fingers, and Kurt wonders if he plays any instruments.

 

“Will you be here Saturday?” Blaine asks when he’s done.

 

“Uhm, yeah. I work the weekends, so…”

 

“Great.  Well, I’ll see you then.”

 

Kurt nods. “Yeah, see you then.”

 

Blaine turns and slips out of the store, but not without one last glance over his shoulder at Kurt. When he’s gone, Kurt’s slumps over the counter, letting out a resounding groan.

 

“You okay?” Jeff calls out to him.

 

“No.”  Kurt shakes his head, his heated forehead cooling against the counter.  “Definitely not okay.”

 

***

 

On Saturday, Kurt takes care to dress well that morning.  Terri always wants them wearing black or white, so they blend in with the frames, which chafes Kurt’s style like nothing else.  But he’s got a pair of incredibly tight black jeans that make his ass look amazing and if there was ever a time to wear them to this boring part-time job in this drab and dreary Ohio mall, today is the day.

 

He’s anxious all day, waiting for Blaine to come pick up his newly framed photo.  Distracted by thoughts of Blaine and his bright eyes and lovely everything, Kurt even forgets to subtly snark at the kid who buys a giant poster of _The Big Lebowski_ like he’s the first person to think of it.

 

“That guy you like is coming back today, right?” Jeff asks, mid-way through the day when Kurt feels like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.

 

“I don’t _like_ him,” he says, too quickly, and it’s not true besides.

 

“Whatever. That guy you _want_ to like is coming back to get his photo?”

 

Kurt chews nervously on his thumbnail and looks at the clock on the wall like it’ll tell him when Blaine is going to show up again.  “He is.”

 

“Are you going to ask him out?”

 

“Why would I do that?”

 

“Because you stared at his mouth while he talked.”

 

Kurt flashes his eyes at Jeff, who just grins impishly.

 

“No LaChiusa today?”

 

Kurt whirls around to find Blaine standing behind him, a small smile on his face.  Kurt flushes down to his knees and hopes that Blaine didn’t hear any of that.  “Hi!” His voice pitches too high and he tries not to cringe.  “You’re back.”

 

Blaine comes closer. Today he’s wearing dark jeans and dark red polo that brings out the rich tones in his skin.  “I am indeed.  Is my god-awful and embarrassing photo ready?”

 

Kurt grins. “It is.  This way.”

 

He gave the photo a nice classy wooden frame, not too big, not too bold, but perfect for the kind of house Kurt imagines Blaine’s parents live in. 

 

“Do you want to see it?” The photo is neatly wrapped up in brown paper to help protect it and Blaine shakes his head.

 

“Nah, like I said. I trust you.”  Blaine hands over a credit card to pay for the order.

 

“Well, I hope your mom likes it.”

 

Blaine snorts. “I’m sure she will.” He tucks the frame under his arm and shifts awkwardly on his feet.

 

Kurt doesn’t want him to go, doesn’t want him to leave and disappear back wherever he came from, where surely Kurt will never see him again.  But he doesn’t know what to say.  He doesn’t know how to ask a boy out; he doesn’t know how to start.

 

“Uhm, so this might be kind of weird, but, do you maybe want to go see _Pippin_ with me?  The tour is coming nearby and I thought maybe you’d like to see it?  With me?”

 

Kurt’s heart beats so fast it hurts and his cheeks ache from smiling.  “Yeah, that’d be nice.”  It’s an understatement for sure, but it’s all he can think to say.

 

Blaine breathes out what seems like a sigh of relief.  “Okay, great. Uhm, you have my number, from before, but uh, can I get yours?” He holds out his cell phone and Kurt fumbles to enter in his information.

 

“That’s me,” he says, giving the phone back, and Blaine looks at the screen a moment before pocketing it.

 

“Okay.  Great, well I’ll call you soon.”

 

“Okay, yeah.” Kurt shoves his hands in his pockets to give his hands something to do.

 

“I’ll see you later, Kurt.” Blaine finally steps away from the counter and heads for the door.

 

But he stops and turns around in the doorway.  “Oh, one other thing.  Do you like coffee?” He asks and Kurt grins.


End file.
